Do You Trust Me?
by LovedLik3WildFire
Summary: Two women are dead, and the killer is at large. Jo and Henry have another tough case on their hands. But when Henry finds some eerie similarities between this case and others he has seen, something shifts. No longer is his main focus simply to solve the case; now, Henry is determined to keep Jo safe. Whatever the costs may be.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **

**Hello everyone! **

**Yeah, so, I'm pretty sure I fixed the little (big) problem we were having with reading this story. I have an idea of what happened, but I digress. Hopefully, it doesn't go crazy html font again. If it does, please don't hesitate to comment! Anyway, enjoy the read! **

**God bless,**

**LovedLik3WildFire**

Jo was tired from a long day of work. She had been at work for almost 24 hours, with little time to rest her mind or her body. The case they were currently working on was quite intense. From what they gathered so far, it could be weeks before they closed this one.

Monday morning had been like any other morning. Jo had the day off on Sunday, and was well rested for what lay ahead. The moment she stepped into the office, Reece had filled her in on what had happened moments before her arrival.

Early that morning, two women were found dead in an abandoned building. Their bodies had been found on opposite ends of a room, seated up against the wall. The damage done was extensive. Contusions and lacerations covered the women from head to toe. Unfortunately, it looked like these women suffered long and hard before death came to claim them.

"That is not the worst of it," Reece said, her voice tainted with sadness.

"What's the worst?" Jo asked, warily.

"They were not killed where they were found."

Jo smiled slightly at the sounds of her partners voice. Turning around, she found Henry standing before her. He was dressed in his lab coat, but Jo could see his vest and shirt underneath it. Dressed to the nines, as always.

"Have we found the official murder scene?"

Henry shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. However, all hope is not lost. After I have finished the autopsy on both women, I should be able to tell you exactly where they were killed. From the evidence I have gathered thus far, I would say their demise was not met very far from where they were found."

Jo nodded and shed the coat the was wearing. Draping it over her chair, she turned back to Henry. "Can I see them?"

He nodded, and made his way toward the morgue, with Jo following next to him. Their walk was silent, which was unusual. Henry was normally quite talkative in the mornings, discussing mainly cases and his roommate, Abe. The silence started to make her uncomfortable (as silence always did), so she did her best to fill the void. She brought up various topics, even venturing as far as complimenting Henry on his clothes. However, despite her best attempts at conversation, everything fell on deaf ears.

"Hey," She finally said, putting her hand on Henry's arm to stop him.

Henry looked down at her hand and then back up to her. "What?"

"Is something wrong? You are awfully quiet."

He smiled that signature smile, which relieved her worry just slightly. "Nothing is wrong; just allowing my mind to wonder."

With that, he pushed open the door to the morgue and was greeted by Lucas. Lucas began explaining how amazing (in a scientific manner, he clarified) these women's wounds were. The precision was incredible. Whoever had done this was a professional. No cut or bruise was placed without thought. Jo looked over at Henry and could see a flash of worry flickered over his face. Before she could say anything about it, the worry disappeared and was replaced with his usual child-like excitement of discovery. However, something tugged at the corner of Jo's heart which worried her.

If something was wrong with Henry, pertaining to the case or otherwise, she needed

to find out what was going on.

Lucas continued on with his mantra of amazement until Henry put an end to it. She stifled a laugh, before turning her attention to Henry. He began elaborating on his findings, filling her mind with a thousand different facts and tidbits of information - some pertaining to the case, others simple historical facts. More than once, Jo needed to redirect his thought process back to the case. Finally, after a few more minutes, she had enough information to start her investigation.

"Jo."

She turned in the doorway, surprised at Henry's address. "Did you forget something?"

He hesitated a moment, which was so unlike him, before responding. "No, sorry."

She nodded, more than ready to leave, but still hesitating. To her surprise, Jo found herself speaking. "You coming?"

Henry grinned. "Of course." In one fell swoop, his lab coat was off and he was headed toward his office. She watched him slide his other coat on with ease, before buttoning it up. Despite his obvious anticipation of going to the crime scene to pick up more evidence, there was something odd about his demeanor. It was an urgency she had rarely seen before. Except when Abe was in danger.

But Abe had nothing to do with this case.

Something must have happened between the two of them this morning. Jo had seen their interactions together; you could call it a bit like a father-son relationship. However, the roles were reversed. Rather than Abe guiding Henry, Henry was guiding Abe. They obviously cared for one another like family, so whatever happened between them must have been serious. As they exited the building, Jo made a mental note to ask him about what happened.

Henry's mind whirled with the possibilities. Ever since he stepped foot into his office, he had been contemplating all the information Reece had given him. Two women, both around 35 years of age, murdered. Bodies left in an area which was obviously not the crime scene. Wounds expertly placed to inflict the most damage, the most pain.

The longer he thought about the evidence, both what he was told by Reece and what he discovered for himself, the more worry gripped his heart. This crime was eerily similar to a slew of crimes he saw back in the early 1900s. Each year, like clockwork, two women would be found dead in some "random" location. The killer was always three steps ahead of the police, in more ways than one. He (or she) would remain hidden from their sight, only to reveal themselves through a third murder.

The murder of a woman connected to the police.

Henry had been involved in three cases pertaining to this killer. He had seen the pattern, and watched in horror as a woman he knew (or someone a colleague knew) would be found mutilated two weeks later. The captain's wife, the assistant medical examiner's sister, and finally, his friend, Edna. This was why, when Jo asked him what was wrong, he hesitated for a brief second.

Of course, the murders connected to the 1900s killing couldn't be connected with these. That would be impossible. The killer would be long dead. Yet, something inside of Henry couldn't help but fear for Jo's safety. What if, by some stretch of the imagination, this new case was related to those killings? That meant that any one of the women on staff, or connected to staff, were in danger. Naturally, he had some worry for every woman involved directly or indirectly with this case. But his worry for Jo was far greater.

"You coming?"

Jo's words pulled Henry out of his thoughts and back into the present. A thrill of excitement surged through him at the prospect of getting to see the crime scene. Despite being a simple medical examiner, Henry loved going into the field. It gave him a chance to hone his observation skills, in a way not found in the morgue.

"Of course." He said, pulling his lab coat off and heading to his office.

And even though 99.1% of the time, Henry went into the field because he loved it, and knew it would help the case, today was different. Today, his excitement drove him go with Jo, while his worry drove him to stay with Jo, and keep her safe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

**Anyone else find the connection between this story's title and last week's episode mildly ironic? Anyway, here's another chapter! It's a short one (as all my chapters usually are). Getting ready to work on chapter three :)**

**God bless,**

**LovedLik3Wildfire**

* * *

><p><strong>1902<strong>

"Doctor Morgan, you should go home and rest."

Henry looked up from his desk at the sounds of the police chief's voice. There he stood, leaning against the door frame of his office, with his coat in hand. Looking over at the clock, Henry let out a sigh of fatigue. It was almost midnight, and in the last four hours, he had gone from his desk to the bodies in the morgue, and back again. Despite his best efforts, there was not a single piece of evidence that could reveal the identity of the murderer.

"Doctor Morgan," Chief O'hara said again, this time in a firmer tone. "Go home."

"Sir, I am certain the identity of our killer can be found if I just-"

"No," He said, cutting Henry off. Sighing slightly, he shifted his tone to one of sympathy. "Henry, you are the best medical examiner I have ever had the pleasure of working with. Your skills of observation are superb, and on more than one occasion, you have been the reason behind catching a killer. But sometimes, no matter how skilled you are, you just don't catch 'em."

Henry knew Chief O'hara was right. Despite his decades upon decades of experience, there were cases in which the killer simply slipped from their grasp, never to be found. As he rose from his chair, he knew this was one of those cases. It was irritating beyond belief, but what could one do?

"You are right, sir," He said, cleaning up the paperwork on his desk. "I haven't slept in over 24 hours. Rest will do me good."

Just as the Chief was about to respond, the phone on Henry's desk rang. Both men looked at it in surprise. No one called this late at night.

"Hello?" Henry said, trying not to sound too exhausted.

"Is the Chief with you?"

He nodded, as if the person on the other end could see. "Yes; hold on a moment."

Passing the phone over to the Chief, Henry began to get ready to leave. He left some of the paperwork on his desk, knowing full well he would return to it tomorrow. Just as he was sliding his coat on, he caught a glimpse of the Chief's face. It had gone from his happy, go-lucky smile to ashen. Something must be horribly wrong; Chief O'hara never looked fearful.

"What is the matter, Sir?" He asked the moment the Chief put the phone back on the receiver. There was quite a bit of time before he responded to Henry's question. However, when he did, his heart sank.

"Peggy has been...murdered."

**Present Day**

"Henry?"

Jo had been throwing out bits of information about the supposed crime scene, when she realized Henry wasn't listening. In fact, for the past five minutes, Henry hadn't even moved from where he was kneeling. He was fixated on a single spot on the ground, where they had found the second woman. Yet, Jo knew he wasn't even really looking. He was thinking.

"Henry?"

Finally, Henry looked up at her with a startled expression. "Were you saying something, Detective?"

"Uh, yes, I was," She responded, slightly irritated.

He rose, walking over to her. "My apologies. I was just...thinking, that's all. Please, repeat what you were saying."

She nodded, still wary he would get lost in his thoughts again. "I was saying, isn't it a bit odd that there is no blood trail? I mean, if the killer dumped theses women here, surely there would be some blood to be traced back to where he parked his car."

Henry smiled slightly. "You are right, Jo. Certainly, there would be evidence of the man (or woman) bringing the bodies to their resting places. However, from what I gather, he had some assistance."

"From whom?"

"Not whom, but what," He said pausing for effect, before walking over to the only door in the back of the room. "This door is unusually large. When this building was constructed, the doors leading outside were purposefully made this way, allowing for easy transfer of cargo. You could easily fit a small vehicle through this door." He paused again, kneeling down to look at the ground. "There are faint tire marks here. The killer brought the bodies in using a golf cart."

Jo stifled a laugh. "A golf cart?"

"Yes, a golf cart. If the women's bodies were positioned on the golf cart properly, the killer could keep all the blood inside the cart. Then, when he disposed of them, he could simply dispose of the golf cart as well. No one would ever be the wiser."

"Surely, the killer wouldn't be foolish enough to abandon the golf cart near by. His or her prints would be all over it." Jo said, as she looked out one of the windows. "Unless..."

"What?" Henry asked, obviously intrigued.

"The killer isn't going to drive around a golf full of blood, and cleaning it would take too long," She said, walking out one of the side doors. "But putting it at the bottom of a harbor would get rid of the evidence just fine."

"Good thinking!" He declare, peering over the side of the dock and into the water. "Look!" Henry suddenly jumped to the ground, laying flat on his stomach.

"What on earth are you doing?" Jo asked, nervous he was going to fall into the harbor, he was leaning so far over the edge.

"Come down here," He said quickly, flailing one arm in the air.

She rolled her eyes and followed his example. Peering over the side, Jo laughed at what they were seeing. "Blood. Not much, but definitely enough to get a positive ID on whether it's one or both of our victims'."

The grin on Henry's face was obvious to Jo, even before she looked over at him. Despite working with Henry for a while now, she still loved seeing him so excited about a case. If anyone were to ever question his authenticity, she simply would bring them into the field with him. That would be proof enough.

They lay there for another moment, before she rose to her feet and pulled out her cell phone. She spoke quickly to Reece, explaining the evidence the two had found and how another sweep of the crime scene would be a good idea. Reece agreed and said she would send people over right away. As Jo was hanging up the phone, she noticed Henry was no longer on the ground, studying the blood, but was standing, watching her.

"What?"

He seemed surprised that she caught him looking. As she listened to him give a reason that seemed less than convincing, her concern for her partner grew. Whatever was bothering him was now bothering her. As the two of them walked back to the car, she decided it was time for Henry to fess up.

Surely, he couldn't hide his anxiety from her forever.


	3. Chapter 3

Henry had spent the majority of his evening pouring over his old case notes from 1902 through 1905. Taking notes on each case had become a habit long ago. It all started in medical school. One of his professors had encouraged his students to take notes. From that point on, Henry found comfort in being able map out his journey to the truth. That was why he never heard Abe come down the stairs.

"What is going on with you?"

This questions stirred Henry from his thoughts and back into the present. "Pardon?"

Abe came over to him, giving him that knowing look. "Something has been bothering you for the past two days, and I just want to know what is going on."

"Nothing is going on," Henry said. But he knew this wasn't the truth, and his conscience pricked swiftly at his heart. "I'm sorry, Abe, that is a lie. We are working on a case that is...rather unnerving."

"In what way?" He asked, leaning against a table near by.

"Do you remember the case we worked on a couple weeks ago? The Jack the Ripper case?"

He nodded, but remained silent.

"This case has the same feel to it. It looks exactly like several cases I worked on long before you were born. The killer preyed on women - three women - to be exact."

"Oh yes, I remember you telling me about that one," Abe said quietly. "Is that the one where the third woman was associated with the police?"

Henry was now the one to nod silently.

"Oh..."

"What?" He asked, knowing full well what that 'Oh' meant. That particular word, in that particular tone, always came out when Abe believed himself to be in on some secret piece of information.

Abe smiled knowingly. "You're worried about Jo."

The declaration came out as a statement, not a question, and that irritated Henry slightly. Abe had always been the type of person who wanted to get straight to the point; no dancing around the truth. So, naturally, it made sense that he would call Henry's bluff. Henry, however, wished he could have let the truth come out in his own way.

"Yes," He said matter-of-factly. "I am worried about Jo."

"It's only natural. You spend a good portion of your time with the Detective. I would be worried if you didn't care about her."

The words "care about her" bounced off the walls in his mind. They could mean something as simple as friendly concern, but had the potential to go much farther than that. Did this sudden concern for Jo stem from general concern for his friend, or something more? If it was general concern, then Henry need not think about the subject any further. He would do what needed to be done to make sure Jo was safe. It was simple as that.

However, if his concern stemmed from something more...intimate, then what would he do? Despite his best efforts to conceal the truth his mind was speaking to his heart, it was to no avail. He would give his very life to make sure Jo was okay.

"So, are you going to tell her about the other cases? You know, the one's you worked on before..." Abe's voice trailed off, uncertain of how to finish his sentence.

Henry blinked several times, trying to refocus his mind on Abe's question. "It would be beneficial for both of us, if I mentioned them."

"That isn't what I asked," He said smirking.

Henry rolled his eyes slightly, before rising from his desk. "Don't you have a shop to tend to?"

Abe's laughter filled his ears as he watched his son ascend the stairs. He couldn't help but smile softly, as he thought about Abe's comments and questions. As he grew up, Henry saw a million of Abigail's qualities in him. Yet amidst all those traits, there was one thing Abe possessed that was clearly his own. Determination. It was this determination which caused Henry to make a crucial decision.

He would be as honest with Jo about the other cases - as honest as he could be, anyway.

Jo sighed, rubbing her temples. She had been sitting at this desk for several hours, looking through the meager amount of evidence they had acquired over the last few days. Despite her best efforts, she had hit a wall. There just wasn't enough to even figure out where the actual murder scene was located.

Memories of her last time at the crime scene flashed through her mind. The excitement on Henry's face in finding the golf cart was enough to ease her frustrations slightly. However, as thoughts of not a single print on the cart passed through her mind, her frustration returned. Certainly, there must be something to get this case moving.

"Jo?"

Jo looked up to find Henry standing in front of her desk. He had his hands behind his back - his signature posture - and was smiling politely. "What is it, Henry?"

"There is something I think you should know." He paused a moment. "About the case."

Her eyes lit up at the prospect of making some headway in this dreary murder investigation. "What is it?"

Taking his hands from behind his back, he revealed a small stack of papers. "This case looked awfully familiar to something I had seen - another murder case. Look through the papers and you'll see what I mean."

With that, Henry turned and made his way back to the morgue. Jo was slightly startled by how quickly he had left. Normally, when there was another step taken toward finding a killer, Henry was eager to be involved in every part. He wanted to know every detail, every tidbit of information. Whatever he had found must have made him uncomfortable.

"That's weird," She mumbled to herself, as she began looking over the papers. It took her all of fifteen minutes to finish, and when she was done, things began to fall into place.

Henry was right; the cases listed here looked exactly like the one they were trying to solve. Thoughts of their "Jack the Ripper" case filled her mind. Certainly, they couldn't have another copycat killer on their hands. Granted, these types of cases weren't rare, but you never saw two within weeks of one another. Yet, if this was a copycat killer, then maybe they could predict the killers next move and prevent it.

Jo stood up and was about to go into Reece's office when something caught her eye. At the bottom of the page she was holding, there was a paragraph about the third victim in these cases. Her eyes widened slightly at what she saw.

_Third victim was always a woman; specifically a woman associated with the police department. _

The reality of the last three days hit her like a freight train. If Henry had these cases on his mind, then she understood why he was so out of sorts. Throwing the papers back onto her desk, Jo made her way quickly over to elevator. If they were going to make any more headway on this case, she needed to know if her suspicions were correct.

Henry wasn't worried about Abe.

He was worried about her.

Henry had his hands in some man's stomach when Jo came in. He didn't even realize she was there until she was standing on the other side of the autopsy table. They both stood there silently for awhile; Henry continuing with the autopsy and Jo simply watching.

"I may have some understanding of how the brain works, but I cannot read it, Detective," He said finally, smirking slightly as he looked up at her.

"I didn't want to disturb you."

He pulled off his gloves and directed Lucas to take over. Walking over to the sink, he pulled off the rest of his gear and began to wash his hands thoroughly. "I presume you read the papers I gave you."

She nodded. "Yes, I have. You may be right; there could be a connection between those cases and the one we are working on now. Copycat killer."

"Yes, those were my thoughts," He said, looking up at her and then turning to walk into his office. To Henry's surprise, Jo shut the door behind her. Obviously, there was more she wanted to talk about than simply the case. "Something on your mind?"

Jo hesitated slightly before deciding to plunge right on into the conversation. "There is something I need to know, and I want you to be completely honest with me."

"Of course."

"Are you afraid I might be the next victim?"

Her question caught him completely off guard. First, his heart was filled with panic. A million excuses to give Jo flooded his mind. Excuses that would make him look less vulnerable. Excuses to make his concern for her simply that of a friend. However, as each response seemed foolish in his mind, something else began to fill his heart.

Pride.

Jo had figured out the source of his anxiety with nothing more than a centuries old case file, and few words from himself. Henry knew she was a bright young woman, but seeing the depth of her ability to interpret what was going on around her was exciting. A smile began to tug at his lips, and the prospect of confessing is fear for her didn't seem so daunting.

"Yes."

Jo smiled softly, and Henry could have sworn he saw a slight blush appear on her cheeks. "You don't need to worry about me, Henry. We don't even know if these killings are going to match the cases you showed me."

He nodded, and walked around his desk to stand in front of her. "I know that, but I want to make sure you're safe."

She smiled again, putting a hand on his arm. "I'm pretty sure I'm in good hands."


	4. Chapter 4

"How was your vacation?" Jo asked, looking over at Detective Hanson.

He looked up from the paperwork at his desk. "It was great. No snow, no rain, just perfect sunshine." He paused a moment. "So, you want to fill me in on the case we're working on?"

Jo began the long summary of how they had gotten to this point. It was almost two weeks since they had found the bodies, and there wasn't a single lead. Besides the correlation between this case and the one Henry had shared with her. They had done some more digging, but came up empty. It was beginning to look like this case was just going to be filed away with the rest of the cold cases.

"And you can't find a single piece of evidence to connect the murder to the previous case?"

She shook her head, and stood up to stretch her back. "I'm not surprised. The case is over a century old. And even if we did find a connection, I don't think it would make much difference."

"Jo."

Jo turned around to see Reece sticking her head out of her office. "Yes?"

"We've found something."

Both Martinez and Hanson rushed into Reece's office. As Hanson was closing the door, Henry popped into Jo's mind. She quickly put her hand on the door to stop Hanson from closing it. "We should get Henry up here before we start." She said, trying not to sound too excited. He was going to be thrilled that there was a break in the case.

For two weeks, Jo had watched Henry go from his normal, cheerful self to someone she didn't recognize. He was anxious all the time, often pacing back and forth and vanishing into his own mind. She knew he was worried about this case, as he worried about them all. But this one was different. It was as if it was consuming him from the inside out. Despite her best efforts to coax Henry out of his funk, nothing helped. Now, as Reece called Henry into her office, a spark of hope danced inside her. Maybe this new lead would be just what Henry needed to find his way back to the world.

The phone rang, and while he desperately wanted to answer it, Henry was a little busy at the moment. Cutting the heart out of a person was a delicate process, and he didn't want to ruin anything by rushing to the phone.

"Lucas!" He shouted. "Would you answer that, please!"

Lucas scurried back into the lab and picked up the phone in just the nick of time. "Hello? Assistant medical examiner speaking." There was a pause which made Henry chuckle, as Lucas rarely paused for anyone but Reece. She makes him nervous. "Yes, Lieutenant; Henry is right here." Lucas pulled the phone away from his ear and placed a hand over the speaker. "It's for you, Doc."

Henry gently placed the freshly cut heart in a pan, and quickly pulled his gloves off. "Hello, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?"

"You should come upstairs to my office. There is new evidence on the-" She wasn't even finished speaking before Henry cut her off.

"I'll be right up." He said, slamming the phone back on the receiver.

"News on the case?" Lucas asked.

Henry simply gave Lucas a wave of his hand before disappearing out of the morgue. He considered waiting for the elevator, but he knew he would be too impatient to wait for it. Taking the stairs two at a time, he was quite out of breath by the time he reached the floor where Reece's office was located. He took the time to compose himself before walking out onto the floor and heading for her office.

When he got there, he could see Detective Hanson and Jo were already sitting down, waiting to here the news. Jo smiled at him and he could see the excitement in her eyes. She was just as excited about this break in the case as he was.

"Now that we're all here," Lieutenant Reece said, gesturing for Henry to close the door. "Early this morning, someone called into 911 to report a strange smell coming from the basement of their apartment building. Apparently, he wasn't the first person to smell it. However, he was the first person to say anything. When the police got there, they found something quite...gruesome. The basement itself was fine; however, after examining further, they found a hidden room."

"Our murder scene," Henry said.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Before you leave to investigate," Reece said, stopping Jo as she was about to leave. "I need to warn you. The police said it was shocking to see. Granted, everyone can't stomach blood, but I know these men personally. If they say it's bad, then it's bad."

Henry nodded, walking over to the door, and turning to Jo, said. "Ready?"

"Absolutely."

The car ride to the crime scene was silent. Several times during their trip, Jo thought about talking to Henry about the weird mood he was in. However, she thought better of it every time she turned to look at him. His face was as solid as a stone; serious and focused. In fact, Henry didn't even notice Jo starring at him. This gave her a chance to study her partner.

Besides the obvious seriousness of his facial features, there was something else hidden behind his eyes. She had often seen it during other cases, especially when they were close to solving them. It was a wisdom that you rarely saw in someone as young as Henry. As if he had lived a thousand lifetimes, seeing life in every stage. The joy of a child playing with his father; the calm of a man going off to war, knowing he was in God's hands; the sadness of watching your friends perish, and you...the only one left. None of it made sense to Jo, and yet, somehow, it did. All the heartache and delight of the world culminating in the man sitting next to her.

Just as Jo was about to speak, the crime scene was before them. The building where this dreaded basement was located showed signs of wear and tear; the obvious result of a lack of upkeep. Police officers and yellow tape littered the entrance to the building, and several groups of people gathered to see what all the fuss was about. Henry and Jo got out of the car at the same time, with Henry holding up the yellow tape to allow her to pass. A police office around her father's age came up to them.

"You're detective Martinez?" He asked, looking at Henry.

"No," He said, smirking. "She is."

The officer looked over at Jo. "My apologies, ma'am. If you'll follow me this way, I'll take you to the crime scene." He paused, looking over at Henry. "But you'll have to stay here."

Before he could contradict the man, Jo spoke up. "No, he's with me."

The officer simply nodded, and walked them into the building. The smell Reece had talked about was apparent as soon as they entered. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't horrible. However, as the descended the stairs, it became more and more putrid. At one point, Jo turned away, trying to and take in the air coming from outside.

"Are you alright, Detective?" Henry asked, pausing on the step above her.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." As she began to walk across the basement, toward the crime scene, Jo felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw Henry holding out his scarf to her. "What's this for?" She asked.

"The smell." He said simply.

Jo hesitated taking in, but she knew it would be helpful. Wrapping it around her neck, she pulled it up to her face and took a deep breath. It smelled of Henry - a mix of aftershave and tea. She was thankful the scarf hid the slight smile on her face.

"Here we are," The officer said. "You may want to brace yourselves. It's the worst I've ever seen."

"Thank you, Officer," Henry said, for both of them. As the officer began to walk away, he turned to look at Jo. "Does it help?" He was referring to the scarf.

She nodded, and gave a muffled reply. "Yes, thank you."

Little did the detective know how much she would rely on that scarf over the next hour, for the smell inside that room was worse than death.


	5. Chapter 5

Detective Hanson was already standing on the far left of the room, as Henry and Jo walked in. Despite his being there for the last twenty minutes, it was still difficult to take in what he saw. The room was a decent size, much larger than anyone expected. There was a old fashioned operating table, with a plush chair seated at the foot. A million different types of surgical instruments covered the tables that were placed along the walls of the room. You would assume this was a hospital, prepping for it's next surgery.

Then, there was the blood.

It covered every surface, in and around the operating table. Imagine the most gruesome horror film you have ever seen, and multiply that by one thousand. Within the puddles and smears of blood, pieces of flesh sat motionless. Some were hardly big enough to see, while others were clear as day. Whatever happened here was unspeakable.

No one moved for quite some time. Detective Hanson simply stood there, his face twisted in disgust. Jo pulled Henry's scarf even closer, doing her best to focus her attention on the smell of it. Henry scanned the room as a medical examiner scans a body, looking for clues as to what happened here and why. Taking a few more steps into the room, he was the first to speak.

"Detective Hanson, has forensics taken any samples of the blood on the..." He paused, looking for the right word, since the blood was everywhere. "...surfaces?"

He nodded. "There were several samples taken; two from the operating table, and one from the floor beneath it."

Henry shook his head. "That won't be enough. We'll need samples from every corner of the room. Who knows how many people bled here..."

There was another moment of silence. It filled the room like water, leaving no one room to think about anything else but breathing. Who could have committed such a heinous crime in this place? What caused them to sink so low as to strip the lifeblood from another person? And why did no one stop them? There would have been no way for anyone to get the victims in this room, except through the front entrance. Surely, the tenants living in the apartments above would have heard screams?

"Henry, look."

* * *

><p>Jo watched as Henry took in the crime scene before him. The seriousness of his face deepened as he began asking Detective Hanson questions. They were simple, yet to the point, as his questions always were. Jo listened for a few moments, before starting an investigation of the crime scene herself. The amount of blood covering the various surfaces of the room was quite shocking. She needed to be careful where she stepped, in order not to get it all over her shoes. Instead of examining the most shocking part of the crime scene, she made her way to the other end of the room. There was not as much blood here, so it was easier to navigate.<p>

This end of the room held a simple dresser, three drawers high. Several towels were folded neatly on top, despite their being covered in blood. It was kind of odd, she thought, to fold them so neatly. Moving onto the contents in the dresser, there was little to be desired. More towels - cleans ones - and a few sets of scrubs. It was possible they could get prints off these items, and possibly bits of hair, but that was all.

Just as she closed the bottom drawer, something caught her eye. Something shiny was tucked underneath. "Henry, look."

Henry turned at Jo's words, and came over to her. Pulling a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket, he slipped them on and knelt down. It took him a minute or so to retrieve whatever was stuck, but once he did, Jo was quite surprised.

"A locket?" She said.

He looked up at her. "Yes, it would seem so. It looks quite old, actually." Being careful not to break it, Henry pulled it open and found a photograph inside.

"Could that be one of our victims?"

"I believe it is; though I would need to have a closer look, as the photograph is quite small."

"How did it get under there?" Detective Hanson asked, walking over to Jo.

Henry stood up, and to her surprise, he was grinning. "This girl was smart. She wasn't going to go down without a fight." Walking back over to the door, he began to reenact the scene. "Judging by the scuff marks on the floor, one of the girls was dragged in here. There are bits of wood on the floor as well. She was dragged in backwards, and in her best attempt to escape, she gripped the sides of the entry way, pulling bits of wood off."

Jo walked over to Henry, and stood with her back to the room. "She couldn't keep herself from being pulled in. It's possible, once she realized there was nothing she could do, she ripped off her locket and threw it to the ground, hoping someone would find it."

He nodded. "Yes, that's my conclusion as well."

"What about the other victim?" Hanson asked. "Certainly, our killer couldn't have dragged two women in here at once."

"The lacerations and stab wounds on the other victim are not as refined as this girl's," He said, holding up the locket. "And her body temperature was lower, as well. I believe the other girl was murdered first. My fear is, judging from the position of the chair over there, our second victim was forced to watch."

"That's awful," Hanson commented.

For the next hour or so, they went through every corner of the room, looking for clues as to what happened. Despite it's awful appearance, it was a treasure trove of information. The bits of flesh were gathered to further verify who was murdered in this room. There were quite a few fingerprints on the operating table and the instruments. However, most of them were only partials. It would be difficult to figure out who they belonged to. After they finished collecting the information and evidence, there was nothing more left to do than go back to the station.

"This should definitely give us information into who killed these women." Hanson commented, as they were ready to leave.

"I have no doubt," Jo said confidently. She peeked over at Henry, who was still looking at things in the room. His face still held an air of seriousness, but seemed softened. Hopefully, all this new information would ease his fears, particularly for her. The killer would be caught and brought to justice. There was nothing any of them needed to worry about.


	6. Chapter 6

**1902**

The sun was beginning to peek out from behind the clouds, doing it's best to force the storm away. Henry, along with practically the entire town, stood around the grave site, listening to the preacher speak. He was not one to take comfort in God, but he did not disregard people who did so. Chief O'Hara and his wife were a couple of those people. It only made sense to him, then, that God would push away the clouds to reveal a beautiful blue sky.

"Peggy always loved when the rain would stand together with the sun," Chief O'Hara said softly. "She would often say it was God's way of showing the hard times don't last forever."

"She was a wise women," Henry said, smiling sympathetically.

"Ah, that she was."

The preacher continued talking, before yielding to anyone who wanted to say a few words. Individual after individual took their place at the head of the coffin, sharing stories and shedding tears. Most of the stories paid tribute to how kind Peggy O'Hara was, while some touched upon her mischievous side. It was good to hear laughter amidst the sadness; Peggy would have wanted it that way.

After a few more words from the preacher, Chief O'Hara was ushered forward to place a single daisy on top of the coffin - Peggy's favorite. He stood there for several moments, and Henry watched as the strong, brave man he knew crumbled into a million pieces. His tears were shed freely, without any concern for what other people would think. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, for everyone felt nothing but love and empathy for the broken man.

People followed in the Chief's footsteps, leaving a daisy on the coffin, until there was a pile too big to fit. Henry touched the top of the coffin as he placed his own flower, and made a promise to Peggy. He would figure out who did this to her. The man would pay for his crimes.

As Henry walked away, something caught his eye in the distance. Standing about one hundred yards away was a man. He looked to be around Henry's age, and was standing next to a large oak tree. Any passerby would have assumed the person was visiting a grave, but he knew better. He could see the man's head was tilted away, but his body was positioned toward the funeral. Henry instinctively moved a few steps toward him, before he was stopped by the Chief.

"Henry," He said firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, sir?"

The Chief paused, before looking him square in the eye. "Find the man who did this to my wife, and bring him down."

Henry nodded and watched the Chief walk away, before turning back toward the man in the distance. When his eyes fell on the place the man was once standing, his heart sunk. He was gone.

**Present Day**

"This guy is a genius."

Lucas stood over the body of the second victim, examining the lacerations all over her. Henry had already done an autopsy on both women, but with the crime scene finally found, he wanted to reexamine them. There may have been something he missed, and he didn't want to take a chance at losing the opportunity to find it. Now, as Lucas stood across the table from Henry, he was starting to regret his decision.

"Lucas, please, I'm trying to concentrate."

Lucas looked up at Henry and frowned. "Sorry, Doc. You have to admit though, whoever did this was a professional."

He knew Lucas was right. Whoever had done this knew what he (or she) was doing. But Henry didn't needed to hear it again...for the one hundredth time. "I realize you're quite taken with what we've found here, but please, keep the declarations of wonder to yourself. Please."

He nodded. "You got it."

There was silence between the two again, which was a relief for Henry. The quieter his environment was, the more quickly he could piece everything together. However, after another hour of searching, the doctor found nothing new on either of the bodies. He was disappointed but knew not all was lost. There were still the results from the crime scene to take into consideration.

Right on cue, Lucas walked back into the lab, grinning. "The results are back on those samples you wanted."

Taking the results from Lucas, Henry quickly read through them. The report was like a Christmas present you never expected. Henry had hoped the tests would reveal something about the crimes committed against these women, but he never expected them to reveal so much. Immediately, his thoughts jumped to Jo. Running over to the phone, he dialed the phone number to her cell phone.

"What is it, Henry?" She asked, her voice a mix of concern and anticipation.

"The results are in."

Those were the only words he needed to say. The clicking sound in his ear alerted him to the fact she had hung up. It wouldn't take Jo more than a few minutes to get to him, yet those minutes felt like hours. At one point, he began pacing back and forth to occupy his time. Lucas made a few remarks, which Henry ignored. By the time Jo was in front of Henry, he was about to jump out of his skin.

"Detective, I have in my hand a goldmine of information pertaining to this case."

"Well, start digging," Jo said smirking.

He smirk back, and began his long tale of surprise and expectancy. "Many samples of blood were taken from the scene. Most of the blood is that of our two victims. Their names are Jennifer Greyson and Abigail Darling. However, there was also blood from another source as well."

"What?" She asked, more excitedly than she intended.

"Dogs."

"Dogs?" Lucas said, coming over to Henry.

Henry nodded and continued on. "The blood from the dogs surprised me, but that wasn't what surprised me the most. Out of all the partial fingerprints collected, we were only able to identify those of our victims. However, there were a few strands of hair in one of the blood samples. The hair is from a Thomas Thatcher."

"Our killer?" Jo asked.

"It's quite possible, but I wouldn't condemn the man just yet. There were only a few strands of hair, and not a single fingerprint from the man in the entire crime scene."

"We'll bring him in for questioning," She said, pulling the phone out of her pocket to text Hanson the news. "Hanson can contact him right now."

The thrill of finally bringing in a suspect was becoming too much for Henry. He needed to occupy his mind with something else. Going over to his microscope, he pretended to look at a sample. Only he knew there was nothing on the slide. Instead, Henry used these few moments to collect his thoughts. If Thomas Thatcher was the killer, than it was possible they prevented a rain of murders. Dozens of women could go on living their lives, without having to worry, even though they didn't realize to in the first place. As Henry looked up from the slide, he looked over at Jo.

She wouldn't have to worry either. Thank God.

Even though Jo was looking at her pocket (to put her phone away), she could still sense Henry looking at her. She was surprised to see him hurry over to his microscope after their sudden finding. You would think he would want to celebrate this new discovery. Of course, Henry wasn't the type to celebrate until there was reason to. Like he said, Thomas Thatcher may not even be our killer.

Now, as she looked up at him and into his brown eyes, Jo saw a spark of the old Henry. The Henry who rambled on with facts no one really needed to know. The Henry who found the simplest things intriguing. The Henry who made Jo laugh. A wave of relief flooded her. Maybe they could move on now.

"Hey Henry," She said, walking over to him.

He smiled, but said nothing, simply waiting for her to speak again.

She hesitated slightly, uncertain of how to proceed. Jo wanted to Henry to know she appreciated his concern for her, but she didn't want to make a big deal out of nothing. They were friends, and friends did this sort of thing. Why, then, did she find herself fumbling for words?

"I...uh...I just want you to know I appreciate your concern for me," She said pausing. "Even if it was unnecessary."

Henry smirked slightly. "You would say that." His smirk faded into something more serious, and Jo knew Henry understood. "You're welcome, Detective."


	7. Chapter 7

It took no time for Thomas Thatcher to be reached, and asked to come in for some questioning. He was rather calm about the whole thing, even going so far as to say he would be willing to help in any way he could. This caused Jo to become slightly suspicious of the man, but she didn't want to jump to conclusions. There was no use condemning a man without proper evidence.

So, at around 1:00pm, Thomas was brought into the interrogation room and left there for about fifteen minutes. This was a tatic Jo liked to use when questioning a suspect. She wanted to let them sit there - in the silence - and think. If the person was innocent, they would remain fairly calm, only getting frustrated because of the wasted time. If the person was guilty, the reaction varied. Sometimes, the killer was as calm as the innocent suspect - a bit too calm. On the other hand, the killer could easily become agitated and start fidgeting or pacing the room.

After the fifteen minutes were up, Jo opened the door and sat down across from Thomas. He smiled politely and waited for her begin.

"Thomas, how old are you?" She asked.

"Eighteen."

"So, you must be just entering college then?"

He nodded. "Yup."

There was a pause in their conversation, allowing Jo to organize her thoughts. "Do you recognize these women?" She asked, pulling out two large photographs from the folder in front of her. They were photographs of the victims before they died.

Thomas looked down, studying the photographs for a moment, before looking back up at Jo. "I recognize one of them. She sometimes comes into my Dad's coffee shop in the morning." He said, pointing to the photo on the left.

"Do you know her name?"

"Yes," He said. "Her name is Jennifer."

"And you're certain you don't know the other woman?" She asked.

He looked down again, just to be sure. "Yes, I'm certain."

Jo paused a moment before revealing the reason for his presence here. "Thomas, these women were murdered two weeks ago, and we found several strands of your hair at the crime scene."

His eyes widened to the size of cup saucers. "You're kidding, right? You think I did this?"

"I don't know. Did you?"

Thomas's cool demeanor vanished. "You're nuts, lady. Why on earth would I kill two women, and jeopardize my chance at an ivy league education? Not to mention moving to England to play Cricket professionally. You have a lot of nerve, calling me in here because a few pieces of hair."

Jo's eyes widened, and she turned her body slightly, to face the one-way mirror. She knew Henry would be in the other room, watching the interrogation. Certainly, being a fan of Cricket himself, he would be interested in talking with this suspect. Turning back around, she smiled at the man in front of her.

"Thomas, if you can prove where you were on January 23, between the hours of 6:00pm and 8:00pm, you're free to go."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "I was at home with my parents. You can call them to confirm my alibi, which I'm sure you'll do."

She nodded, and slid a pen and paper toward him. "Write their number down and I'll give them a call right now."

He quickly scribbled out their number, giving Jo leave to call them. Within ten minutes, Jo was back inside the interrogation room, confirming what Thomas had already said. He was, in fact, home with his parents that evening. There was no way he could be the killer. She didn't want to admit it, but she was a bit disappointed. Not that she wanted this young man to be a cold blooded killer, but it would have been nice to close the case.

Turning back to the mirror, Jo shrugged once. Maybe Henry could find them a new lead. One that would be lead them straight to the finish line.

"I can't believe we're back to square one." Hanson said, pushing his chair back in frustration.

Henry was startled from his thoughts at the sound of Hanson's voice. Ever since Thomas's alibi was confirmed, he had been running a million different scenarios in his mind. Some were plausible, while others were extreme, even for him. There must be something they were missing; some stone left unturned. Suddenly, as if given a shock, Henry jumped up from his chair.

"The killer knows Thomas!"

Jo looked up at him, puzzled. "What?"

He pushed back his chair and came to stand in front of her. "Stand up."

Again, she looked at him, but more confused this time. "Excuse me?"

Henry began waving his hand in the air, causing her to rise. Once she was at full height, he pulled her chair away from her, and began walking around her, slowly. He wasn't totally oblivious to how she tensed up as he leaned it, but his analytical mind was too focused on what he was searching for. After another moment, Henry found it.

"Ah ha!" He said suddenly, plucking something from her left arm. Holding it up, he smiled as if he was a child who discovered his Christmas presents before the big day. "What is this, Detective?"

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "That's a piece of my hair, Henry."

"And how did it get on your arm?"

"Well, it _is_ my hair. You'd probably find strands all over my clothing."

"Exactly!" He exclaimed. "The average person loses about 50 to 100 strands of hair daily1. And in order for someone to get, say, your hair on their clothing, they would have to be in contact with you at some point. Now, take into consideration we found at least three strands of Thomas's hair at the crime scene, that would mean the killer had to be around him long enough to get his hair on their clothes."

"And there may have been strands of hair we missed," Jo said, understanding where Henry was going with all of this. "The only way a person could get that much hair on them is if they were with Thomas often. Like...like his parents."

Henry's eyes fell slightly. "Yes, like his parents. However, it could also be a good friend of his."

"I'd say it's about time we got some coffee," She said, smiling. "Don't you think, Henry?"

He grinned, thrilled to be on the hunt again. "My treat!"

1. Farrell, S. (n.d.). How much hair loss normal? Retrieved from Daily MakeOver


	8. Chapter 8

The smell of coffee and baked goods filled the coffee shop. Henry was not a fan of fancy coffees, but he certainly enjoyed a delicious English pastry. His eyes scanned the display of desserts, seeing if there was something he could take home after talking with Thomas's father.

"Hungry?"

He looked up at Jo, who was stifling a laugh. "I do enjoy a good pastry now and again."

"We certainly have those," A man said, coming up from behind the counter. "What would you like?"

"Nothing right now," Henry said politely, before turning to look at Jo.

"NYPD," She said, showing her badge to the man.

He nodded. "Is this about Thomas?"

Jo shook her head. "No, Mr. Thatcher. I spoke with your wife just a few hours ago. Your son has been cleared as a suspect." She paused a moment, allowing the relief to sink into Mr. Thatcher's mind. "We, actually, have a few questions for you."

"Certainly," He said, taking off his apron. Looking over toward the kitchen, he called for one of his employees to take the register. Turning back to them, he offered the pair coffee and escorted them over to a table in the corner of his shop. Henry was quite taken with the overall feel of this coffee shop. A couple sofas, a few plush chairs, and varying tables were arranged neatly on one side, while a small bar of creams, sugars, and utensils stood on the other. It was all very homey.

"Have either of these women ever come in for coffee?" Jo asked, pulling out the photographs that were shown to his son.

Mr. Thatcher pulled out his glasses and looked over the photos. "Yes, both these women are regulars. They come in on relatively the same days, though I don't believe they have ever spoken."

"How long have they been coming?"

"Jennifer has been coming for the last two years or so. Abigail is a relatively new, though. Only been in these last few months."

Henry was the one to ask a question now. "Did either of them ever spend any time with your son?"

Mr. Thatcher looked at him, puzzled. "No, why do you ask?"

"We found Thomas's hair at the crime scene."

His eyes widened slightly, and Henry couldn't help but think how much Thomas looked like his Father in that moment. However, rather than exploding with anger, Thomas's father simply sat there in stunned silence.

"Mr. Thatcher, please, don't worry," Jo said reassuringly. "Your son is not a suspect. As I said before, he's been cleared. If your son has spent any time with these women, prior to their deaths, that could explain away the hair we found at the crime scene."

"No, Thomas never spent time with Jennifer or Abigail, apart from taking their order." He paused a moment, and Henry could see a flicker of remembrance shoot across his face. "Actually, there was one time..."

"Go on, Mr. Thatcher." She said.

"Around a week ago, Thomas was taking Abigail's order, when this man came into the shop. He came up to her and started yelling, quite loudly. By the way Abigail reacted, I'd say she knew the man, and was frightened of him. Thomas politely told the man he needed to leave, and things got physical. He took a swing at Thomas, but thankfully, there were a couple other men near by and they put a stop to it. The man put up a fight and tried to grab at Abigail, but Thomas pulled her out of the way. She was pretty shaken up."

"Did you call the police?" Henry asked.

"Absolutely," He said, nodding firmly. "They were here within minutes and took the man away. It was the last we saw of him."

Henry and Jo spent the next few minutes talking more with Mr. Thatcher, who refused to be called anything but Allen, until they realized there was nothing more he could do to help. They both grabbed a cup of coffee to go, and were just about to leave, until Henry heard something that caught his attention. There was a woman at the counter, and Allen was offering her one of their reward cards. From what he could hear, customer's spent a certain amount of money, and they could receive free items. Henry moved quickly to the counter, trying not to look like he was cutting in line, though he clearly was doing so.

"Allen, can I ask you about the rewards program you use here?"

Allen looked slightly startled, but quickly recovered. "All you have to do is give a bit of your personal information; it's loaded onto this card," He said, holding up the green card. "And when you come in to buy something, just have us scan the card. The amount you spend adds up to free food, beverages, or discounts."

"Henry," Jo whispered more harshly than she intended. "What are you doing?"

He ignored her, and posed another question. "What personal information, exactly?"

"The normal information...your name, address, and email, but that's optional."

"You have that information stored somewhere, correct?"

Allen nodded. "Of course."

Suddenly, Henry turned to look at Jo, startling her. "Our killer could be on that list."

Her eyes flashed understanding, before a small smile formed on her face. She turned toward Mr. Thatcher. "Would it be possible for us to get a copy of that list? Of course, it wouldn't be seen by any other than my colleagues, so no personal information would be compromised."

He hesitated slightly, before giving his consent. Within moments, Henry and Jo were in possession of a list that could change the course of their investigation. No more chasing after leads destined to go cold.

They thanked Allen multiple times, before heading back out to the car. As Henry opened the door and got into the car, he realized he left his coffee inside. It would only take him a minute or so to retrieve it. Little did he know that minute would be a changing point in his life. For it took only one minute for Henry to lose the one person he had feared would be taken from him. The car was there, and so was her gun and badge.

But Jo was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Jo remembered the last thing she thought before he appeared. The air was bitter cold, and she couldn't wait to get back to the precinct, where there would be nothing but warmth. As she watched Henry grab his coffee, she heard something in the alleyway. She'll never understand what caused her to investigate. Maybe it was her inner detective's curiosity that caused her to look. Maybe it was her need for adventure. Whatever it was, it was wrong.

Horribly wrong.

The man came out of nowhere. Jo knew it was a man by his utter strength, as he pulled her into the alley. Before she could comprehend what was happening, he hit her across the head with something sharp. It knocked her unconscious, which was a blessing, because where she was headed was dreadful.

Jo wasn't certain how long she had been unconscious, but when she came to, her first thought was of Henry. Specifically, his concern for her safety. _Well, I guess he was right,_ she thought, as she felt blood trickling down her face.

Light trickled in through the windows above her, causing her to examine her surroundings. The room she was in stood empty, except for herself and the chair she occupied. It looked to be an old warehouse, but she wasn't totally sure. There was no sound besides what sounded like water. Water. A warehouse.

"You cannot be serious," She mumbled, her voice hoarse. "He brought me back to where we found them."

Her head began to pound in combination with this realization, and the wound. Jo had been taken, just like Henry had feared. His anxiety was not irrational at all. It was perfectly plausible. Regret began to tug at the sides of her heart. Maybe she should have taken Henry's worries more seriously? She would have been on her guard, and maybe this wouldn't have happened.

"I'm sorry, Henry," She whispered to herself.

Suddenly, the sound of a door caused her to jump. Even though the room was relatively dark, Jo knew the man standing a few feet away from her was their killer. There was no fear in her heart, only bitter anger. The man must have sensed it, as he began to laugh.

"You're a feisty one, aren't you?"

"They'll find me, and when they do, there will be hell to pay." Jo said sharply.

He laughed again, taking a step closer to her, revealing his features. "Oh, I hope for it."

This surprised her. "Why?"

He smirked spitefully, before leaning toward her. His breath smelled of coffee and cigarettes. "Because I want them to see my work. My great-grandfather had a knack for this skill set, and he evidently passed it down to me. Call it a tribute to him. Oh, he would be proud."

Henry tried to keep his composure as he raced back to the precinct. The coffee shop wasn't but a few blocks away, so he decided to run out his anger. However, as he opened the door and stepped in from the cold, his anger had grown from a simple spark to a raging fire. Skipping the elevators, he took the stairs, two by two, until he reached their floor. Lieutenant Reece was just closing the door to her office, when she caught a glimpse of Henry. He must have looked like a madman, because concern covered her features.

"Henry, are you okay?"

He did his best to walk slowly into her office. Despite his best efforts, his anger slithered out into his tone. "He took her...that, that...that despicable creature took Jo."

Reece's eyes widened. "Are you certain?"

"I would stake my life on it," He said more loudly than he intended. Taking his tone down a notch or two, he elaborated. "When I came out of the coffee shop, the car was there and I saw Jo's gun and badge at the entrance to the alleyway. You know as well as I do, she would never just leave those on the ground like that. And..." His voice faded off.

"What?"

"I saw some blood. Not much, but enough for me to guess it's Jo's."

Within moments, Reece picked up the phone and began the search for the Detective. The entire precinct was on high alert, considering it was one of their own. It did not matter whether their search would take them a couple blocks down the road, or to China. They would find Detective Martinez, and bring her home safely.

While everyone seemed to have something to do, Henry felt like a restless child. He stood outside of Reece's offices, fidgetting. Even though he had been on countless cases with Jo, he still knew he wasn't an official detective. They would humor him, and even bring him evidence from the case, but nothing more. In essence, Henry was helpless.

All the fear and anxiety came rushing back to him, this time stronger. It was as if his anger toward Jo's captor fueled the rest of his emotions. Henry was not a man to cry, but he felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Turning away, he made his way back down to the morgue and into his office. He slammed the door and closed the blinds. No one needed to see him like this. The last time he allowed himself to feel uncontrollably was when Abigail disappeared.

It was late in the evening, when Henry finally got home. The lights were out, which was a surprise to him. Abe would be in bed already, but Abigail always waited up for him, no matter how late he was. Memories from that night flashed through his mind. He had called out to her again and again, but there was no answer. The silence was deafening. The frantic search began, until Henry realized she was gone.

Abducted. Taken. Lost.

Now, as he stood in his office, throwing things across the room, he realized it was happening again. Jo was abducted. Jo was taken. Jo was lost. And it was all his fault. If only Henry had been more careful. If only he had been more watchful of her. This could have been prevented.

"Where are you?" He whispered, letting the tears roll down his face. "Oh Jo, where did he take you?"

Lucas stood at the entrance to the morgue, with Hanson standing next to him. Both of them remained silent as they listened to the commotion going on in Henry's office. Neither of them said a word until the crashing ceased.

"I asked him what was wrong," Lucas said quietly. "But he just brushed right past me, and slammed the door." Turning to Hanson, he frowned. "Do you know what this is all about?"

Hanson hesitated slightly, before answering. "Henry and Jo were investigating the double murder case, when...when Jo disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

He nodded. "Henry believes our killer took her."

"Detective Martinez is gone..." Lucas said in disbelief.

Hanson nodded again, submitting to another round of silence. Both men couldn't believe what was happening. How could one of their own been taken so easily? Surely, Jo put up a fight in order to keep from being taken. That's why her badge and gun must have been lying on the ground. That's why blood was found. Jo Martinez was a fighter, and no one was going to hurt her without paying for it.

"I didn't see it until now," Hanson said quietly, looking back up at Henry's door.

"See what?"

He rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Lucas, think about it. Henry and Jo are friends, so naturally her disappearance would affect him. It has affected us all. But no one gets that upset over the loss of someone who is just a friend."

Lucas's eyes widened. "The Doc and Detective Martinez?! No way."

"I'm not saying Jo feels the same way, but I would bet my life savings on Henry's feelings.

He loves her."


	10. Chapter 10

Abe stood over the stove, pushing the scrambled eggs around the pan. Normally, he enjoyed rising early and cooking breakfast for his Dad, but today was different. The scene from last night replayed in his head, like a movie.

* * *

><p><strong>Last Evening<strong>

Henry had come home late, like he normally did. Abe had just put dinner on the table when he heard the door slam. He recognized that slam anywhere. Something happened at work - possibly with the double murder case - to upset him. It wasn't unusual for his Dad to come home from work frustrated. Those things happen when you're in Henry's line of work. But when he came stomping into the kitchen, Abe knew it was something more.

"What's wrong?" He had asked, knowing full well Henry might just ignore him and retreat to his Lab in the basement. And as Abe predicted, he did just that. Well, it wouldn't be the first time Abe had to bring his Dad dinner. However, as he stepped off the bottom stair, he heard something he hadn't heard in years.

Crying.

"Dad," He said, putting the plate of food on the nearest table and walking over to him. "What happened?"

Henry looked up at him, tears still streaming down his face. "Jo."

Her name was all Abe needed. Just like Henry had feared, Jo was taken by their killer. It made sense now, all the frustration and the tears. He had seen these before, when his Mom had disappeared. Henry was a wreck for months, unable to do much but go through the motions of life. Abe would have guessed his Dad lost half his body weight in those first three months, and all his will to live. He thanked God Henry couldn't do anything about that, though.

"Talk to me," He said finally, after the tears had let up a bit. "Have they started searching for her? Did she leave any clues behind?"

Henry looked up at Abe and smiled softly. "I appreciate your desire to help, Abraham, but I really don't think -"

"No," Abe said, interrupting him. "You're not doing that again."

He looked slightly startled at Abe's tone. "What are you talking about?"

"You are not retreating into yourself and ignoring the help people want to give you, especially me. Jo is my friend too, and if I want to help, I'm going to help."

A look of regret clouded his face. "I'm so sorry...I did this when Abigail disappeared, didn't I?"

He nodded. "And it made me so mad."

Henry chuckled as he saw Abe smile slightly. "I remember."

"So, what say you and I have dinner, and then get to work on this case? I made one of Mom's favorites: roast beef and vegetables."

"With fingerling potatoes?"

"What else?" Abraham said, laughing.

* * *

><p><strong>Present Day<strong>

Abe was brought back to the present by the sound of his Dad's footsteps. Their cadence was slower this morning, more methodical; as if the simple task of walking was incredibly difficult. When Henry appeared in the kitchen, he considered saying something about the case, but he thought better of it. No need to jump into the pool right away without testing the waters first.

"Did you make the coffee?"

Abe looked up at his Dad and nodded. "Yeah, it's on the table already."

Henry nodded in response and sat down. Every so often, Abe would look over at him, to see how he was doing. The loss of Jo was taking a toll on him, as was evident in his appearance. There were small, dark circles under his eyes, and Abe would have sworn Henry had aged within the span of eight hours. His forehead was wrinkled, and he knew a million different thoughts were rushing through his mind. Maybe it would be a good idea to fill his mind with something else.

"Someone brought in a Victorian chair yesterday. It looked to be very early 1840's."

"How much did you purchase it for?" Henry asked.

"I haven't bought it yet. I wanted to do a bit of research before I asked a price. Don't want ask too little."

"That's wise," He mumbled.

Abe sighed, and realized he would, indeed, have to just jump in the pool, regardless of the risks. "Henry, Jo would slap you for acting this way." He wasn't certain whether it was his tone of voice, or his choice of words, that caused Henry's head to snap up. _Okay, _Abe thought,_ the water's a little chilly._

"Excuse me?"

"You're the most skillful M.E. I have ever seen. Your observation skills are incredible, and instead of using those skills to find Jo, you're sitting at breakfast...sulking."

"I am not sul-"

Abe interrupted him. "And now, you're going to argue with me." He softened his tone slightly. "I suspect, wherever Jo is right now, she's hoping a certain friend of her's is doing all in his power to find her."

The slight look of hurt faded from Henry's eyes, and was replaced with something far more useful: hope. "You're absolutely right, Abraham. What on earth am I still doing sitting here?" Henry said, standing quickly and grabbing his coat. He threw it on, and headed straight for the door.

"Wait!" Abe yelled to him, just as he was about to open the door. Grabbing the scarf off the peg, he jogged over to his Dad and wrapped it around his neck. "You wouldn't want to forget this. She probably wouldn't recognize you without it." The sound of Henry's laughter filled his ears, and Abe knew today was going to be good.


	11. Chapter 11

Jo groaned from the pain in her lower back. Judging from the lack of light streaming through the windows, she had to have been seated for a least a whole day. Muscles she didn't remember having screamed for her to move, but what could she do? She was stuck in the chair.

After their first conversation, Jo had tried desperately to free her hands from behind the chair. It felt like they were tied together with simple rope, so surely, it would be easy to free herself. Despite her best attempts, the only progress Jo made was in the wounding of her wrists. She could feel the skin becoming raw as the rope scraped against it. Her next step had been to move with the chair, possibly to find something sharp enough to cut the rope. Unfortunately, the killer had taken precautions and bolted the chair to the floor.

Thoughts of the precinct flooded her mind suddenly. If an entire day had passed, then Lieutenant Reece, Detective Hanson, Lucas, and Henry would already have started the search. They would be pouring over the evidence they had collected, doing their very best to find her. Jo had great confidence in their abilities, but the more time passed, the more doubt filled the corners of her mind. What if they never found her? What if her last moments on earth would be here, in this room?

"You can't think like that," She said softly to herself. "Don't let hope vanish."

The sound of footsteps tickled at her ears, causing her to sit up straight. Blinking several times, she cleared her head and tried to look as unaffected by her circumstances as possible. If her captor saw any sign of weakness, he would use it against Jo. She needed to be the one holding the all the cards, if she was going to stay alive. Or at least, pretend she held them.

"Ah, I see you're awake." His voice was raspy, but was surprisingly polite.

"How long have I been asleep?" Jo asked, unable to curb her curiosity.

"For about a day," He said nonchalantly. "The drug I gave you was quite effective."

Great, she thought, if he gives me anything else, it may be a lost cause.

Based on the thousands of cases Jo had worked on, she knew if a person was drugged, there was little they could do to defend themselves. One too many women had been raped because of drugs. One too many men had been beaten and murdered because of drugs. It was imperative she remain as drug free as possible.

"Don't worry," The killer said coming up to her. "I don't plan on drugging you very often. You need to be awake for what I'm doing to do."

"And what's that?"

"In due time, Detective; in due time."

With that, he turned around and made his way out the door. Jo considered screaming when the door was opened, hoping her voice would carry far enough for someone to hear. But she knew better than that. If they were where she thought they were, no one would hear her for miles. Jo's only hope was to be found.

And fast.

* * *

><p>Henry sat at his desk, pouring over his notes for the case, including the notes from his cases in 1902. He spent a good portion of his morning comparing and contrasting their similarities. There were quite a few, much to his dismay. He did his best not to allow his emotions to get mixed up in things. Now was not the time for that. Now was the time for good ole' fashioned science and detective work.<p>

"Hey Doc."

Henry looked up to see Hanson standing in his doorway. "Yes, Detective?"

Hanson sat down in the chair in front of his desk. The sigh of frustration didn't go unnoticed by the M.E. "I just spent three hours looking over this list you gave me from the coffee shop. There doesn't seem to be any connection between these people and our murder. If there is a connection, I'm missing it."

He nodded. "I'd like to go back to the coffee shop and talk some more with Mr. Thatcher."

"How come?"

"We're missing something big, and I have a feeling we'll find it there."

"You want to go now?" Hanson asked standing up.

Henry nodded as he stood to grab his coat. As he slipped it on, the unusual nature of this moment flashed through his mind. How many times had he done this? How many times had he slipped his coat on, to go investigate with Jo? It wasn't that Henry didn't like Hanson; on the contrary, he considered him a friend. But these little moments between trips to investigate fit better with Jo in them. Wrapping his scarf around his neck, he took a deep breath and resolved to be as present as possible in this moment with Hanson. Jo's life depended on it.

Of course, it didn't help that his scarf still smelled of her.

* * *

><p>Hanson could tell there was something in the air. Call it tension, call it uncharted territory. Whatever it was, he didn't like it. Turning on the radio, he allowed the music to fill the spaces between them. Henry didn't seem to mind the music, which was a relief. He needed it to cover up the thoughts that seemed to scream from his mind.<p>

The realization that Jo was gone still hadn't properly sunk in yet. Hanson had tried to process what he was thinking and feeling, but it didn't seem to help the sinking feeling in his heart. No matter what he did, he could help but sense their investigation to find her would be in vain. If their killer was as good a copycat as they all believed, Jo would be dead soon. Oh gracious, how Hanson hoped he was wrong.

They pulled up to the coffee shop, and Henry was out of the car even before he could unbuckled his seatbelt. Hanson chuckled softly as Henry paused at the door, turning toward him and shrugging.

"Anxious, I guess," He said.

"We all are," Hanson said, smiling to ease the fear that hung between them.

The coffee shop smelled wonderful, and it took all of his resolve not to order several different coffee's at one. The man at the counter seemed to recognize Henry, and he figured this must be Mr. Thatcher; Thomas's father.

"Hello, Allen," Henry said politely. "How are you?"

Allen smiled. "I'm doing well; thank you. Is there something I can do for you?"

He nodded. "Do you remember telling us about the fight that almost was...between Thomas and Abigail's friend?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Do you happen to know the name of the two men who put a stop to it?"

Allen was silent for a few moments, trying to recall their names. Recognition flashed across his face, giving both Hanson and Henry hope. "I believe their name's are Jonathan and Michael."

"Are either of them on this list?" Henry asked, pulling the list of name's Allen had given them out of his pocket.

He scanned the pages, before point to the bottom of the third. "Jonathan is not; he just started coming here. Michael is, however."

Henry looked at the name, before shooting another question at the man. "Can you tell me when Michael started coming to your shop?"

All was silent again, before his face suddenly went ashen. "Oh my goodness..." He whispered.

"What?" Henry asked, slightly frantic. "What is it?"

He looked up at Henry and Hanson with deep sadness in his eyes. "Michael started coming a week after both Abigail and Jennifer, and...and since their murder, he hasn't been back."

Hanson couldn't believe what he was hearing. After weeks of hitting dead ends, seeing the pieces fall into place was thrilling. Here they were, standing in a small coffee shop, and their murder case had just been solved. Granted, they would need to bring Michael in for questioning, but from the look in Henry's eye, Hanson knew this was the man they were looking for.

They thanked Allen for his help, and were out the door within seconds. Once both men were in the car, Hanson turned toward Henry to say something, but Henry was already talking.

"Michael has to be our killer."

He nodded. "That's my conclusion as well, but we still need to bring him in for questioning. Plus, there is the small detail of little to no physical evidence against him."

"We'll find evidence," Henry said quickly.

Hanson let out a small sigh, understanding his need to find the killer. Finding the killer meant finding Jo, and making sure he was safe. They all wanted to find her safe, but doing it at the expense of someone who might not be their killer wasn't right.

"Listen, Doc, I'll do my best to piece together the evidence against this man. But, we have to keep in mind the possibility that he isn't our killer."

Henry sighed as well, nodding. "I know, Hanson. I know."

The car right back to the station was driven in silence. It hung in the air like a thick fog, making it difficult to focus. Hanson could tell Henry wanted nothing more than to get back to his lab, and do...something. Anything to keep himself from thinking or feeling. He felt the same way, but knew covering those thoughts and feelings up would prevent him from uncovering the truth. So, with hesitancy, Hanson parked the car and made his way into the precinct. This wasn't going to get any easier, and he knew the best thing to do was to simply press on.


	12. Chapter 12

**1902**

Henry heard the sound long before he passed Chief O'Brian's office. It was soft, yet pronounced, changing in tone and volume every few seconds. It was a sound he recognized from being in his own life all too often. Reaching the door of the Chief's office, he leaned toward it and listened. Henry wasn't certain whether he should knock and try to console the man, or simply let him weep in peace.

It had been three months since Peggy's death, and they were no closer to finding her killer than they were before. Henry had done everything he could think of to try and close this case, but he was out of options. Everyone knew hope was fading, despite their best efforts to keep it alive. There was nothing left to do now, but pray something turned up.

"I know you're standing out there, Morgan."

Henry jumped at hearing his name, and felt his cheeks get hot. Apparently, he wasn't as quiet as he thought he was. "Hello, Sir," He said, slowly pushing open the door.

The Chief's eyes were dry, but still red and puffy. "We're never going to find him, are we?"

"I...I don't think so, Sir."

He nodded. "You've done one heck of a job though, Henry."

Henry smiled softly. "Thank you."

There was a pause in their conversation before the Chief responded. "You're welcome; now, go home. I'm giving you the day off tomorrow. Have a nice, long weekend."

Henry didn't feel right about leaving him there alone, to bear the burden of his suffering all alone. But the look in the Chief's eye as he hesitated confirmed it was the right thing to do. Sometimes, a man needs to simply be alone to process the truth, no matter how difficult it is to swallow.

He knew that better than anyone.

* * *

><p><strong>Present Day<strong>

Jo let out a small cry of pain as the ropes tying her to the table dug deeper into her wrists. She looked over and saw a few drops of blood appear on her arm. It was the second time she bled at the hands of her captor.

He had been gone about an hour, and she was beginning to fear he would simply leave her there. Early that morning, as she woke up to the sun shining through the warehouse windows, he came in to greet her. Much to Jo's surprise, he brought in something to eat. She hadn't had food for three days, and she was beginning to wear away. Unfortunately, he didn't allow her to eat it on her own. She remained tied to the chair, while he spoon fed her. There wasn't much in terms of variety - only a few pieces of toast with raspberry jam, and oatmeal - but it was still delicious. After she finished, she thought maybe he would leave her alone again.

But he didn't.

Jo should have known this kind gesture would be followed by spite and anger. Her captor untied the ropes around her legs, leaving the ropes on her wrists, and slid her from the chair. Being in one position for so long caused her legs to give out. She groaned as her face hit the ground.

_That's going to leave a mark._

Jo didn't remain on the floor for long, though. He thrust her upwards and shoved her toward the door.

"Where are we going?" She asked, her voice cracking from lack of water.

"You'll see," was all he said.

Their trip was a short one; the second floor of the warehouse. As they entered the room above the one she just occupied, Jo felt her heart drop. Situated in the middle of the room was an operating table similar to the one they found at the crime scene. A large lamp hung above it; the only light source in the room. It gave the entire scene a dreadful feel.

Normally, Jo is the one to be brave in situations regarding her job. She'll do what she needs to do to keep the victim safe. But now, she was the victim, and all the bravery in the world wouldn't help her now. With force she didn't know she had, Jo began to fight the man. His reaction made her realize he wasn't expecting her to fight back.

"HELP!" She screamed, hoping someone somewhere would hear her. But, of course, no one would.

"Hey!" Her captor yelled back at her, slapping her. "You've been good thus far; don't make this harder on yourself than it needs to be."

"You'll never get away with this," She said firmly.

He laughed, before shoving her up onto the table. "Your detective friends haven't figured out who killed those two women, have they? In fact, I'd say you were all running in circles looking for answers."

Jo didn't respond, but simply looked past the lamp and at the ceiling. Unfortunately, this tactic of silence only fueled the man's fire.

"I thought so. You see, I'm very meticulous about these things. Every little detail is planned, down to the smallest moment. Your capture was even well thought out." He paused only a moment, while tying her arms to the sides of the table. "I would only take someone who was well thought of and loved. Much to my surprise, you were perfect. On the outside, you have no one. But I know the truth."

"What in the world are you talking about?" She asked, finally getting fed up with his speech.

"Henry Morgan."

Jo did her best to remain calm at the sound of his name, but she could tell by his reaction she wasn't calm at all. "What does he have to do with this?"

"Oh, come now, Detective," He said laughing softly. "I've been watching you since I committed those murders. And I've seen the way you two interact. Your feelings are well conceal. His, however, are not." He paused a moment to survey her on the table. "Out of every person associated with the police station, your death will cause the most pain. Especially in the life of Doctor Morgan."

Jo wasn't certain what to think, as she began to process all her captor had said. How could her life mean so much to everyone...especially Henry? Granted, she was his friend and considered herself blessed to be so. But more than that? There was no way it could be true. Both Henry and herself were still clinging to their past. Her with her husband, and him with Abigail. There was no room for anything else. Was there?

All these thoughts swirling around in her mind and she never ever noticed her captor leave. If she had noticed, then she would have seen the look in his eye as he watched her.

She didn't have much time.


	13. Chapter 13

Henry stood in the lab, finishing up some work for a few other cases he was on. Hanson was upstairs trying to piece together a case against Michael, so he thought it best to keep out of his way. Despite his driving desire to help, Henry knew it was a good idea to allow his new partner to work in peace.

Hope for finding Jo had begun to spring forth, and working through those other cases was a cinch. Henry finally felt in his element again, after what seemed like years of brokenness. It wasn't that he couldn't do his work. On the contrary, it would take the fires of hell to stop him from being an M.E. But something was off since this case started - long before Jo was taken. Whatever it was, it was back and the feeling was wonderful.

A few hours passed by, and much to his surprise, Henry was finished with his work. Looking up at the clock, he found there was still an hour to his work day. The thought popped into his mind to go and see how Hanson was doing. Surely, he reasoned, three hours was enough time.

Henry stood in front of the elevator, wishing the doors would open faster. He counted the seconds between the time each floor number lit up: two and a half. Once the sound of the elevator stopping reached his ears, he took a step toward the opening doors. However, much to his surprise, Hanson was getting off.

"Hey, Doc. I was just coming to see you."

Henry nodded. "As was I. How is the case coming along?"

Hanson smiled, and he noted a hint of excitement in his eyes. "Well, it took me some time, but I think I found the last piece of the puzzle. I did some digging into Michael's family life. Apparently, he's the son of a very rich man. His father owns a slew of warehouses. And I bet you'll never guess which warehouses he owns."

"Ha!" He said, practically jumping out of his skin from excitement. "We should go. Right now."

His partner laughed. "I thought you'd think so."

The prospect of finding Jo at the warehouse where they found their first two victims both thrilled and terrified Henry. There was a good chance they would find her with simply a few cuts and bruises. However, there was also another chance they would find her in a condition worse than the first two women. Henry did all he could to force that option out of his mind. They would find Jo at one of those warehouses - he was certain of it.

And she would be okay.

* * *

><p>Jo wished very much to be anywhere but where she was right now. She had been lying on the table for quite some time - around three hours - and her body was racked with aches. Thankfully, the torture had not begun, at least in terms of physical pain. However, her captor had taken a different route in terms of making Jo suffer.<p>

From the moment he had taken her, the killer had started his torture. Jo was not aware of what he was doing at the time; she simply believed him to be prolonging her inevitable death. Tying her to a chair, leaving her alone for an extended period of time, and withholding food were all a part of his plan. Once she was physically weak, he would begin on the more intense work.

Destroying her mind.

The killer had done his homework, and discovered various fears Jo kept hidden from those around her. The biggest fear she had was fear of the dark, with tight spaces being a close second. Locking her in a closet wasn't suitable to his future plans, so the killer worked with her fear of the dark. Just as the sun reached it's highest peak, he came walking into the room.

Jo was oddly satisfied to see him; maybe he would just killer her now and get it over with. Instead, she watched in horror as he began boarding up the windows. Light slowly began to recede from the room, and once the third window was boarded up, Jo realized what he was doing. Panic rose within her heart; how could he know she was afraid of the dark?

"I feel I should explain myself," The killer said suddenly, as the last bit of light vanished. Jo remained silent and still, as she listened for his footsteps. He was at the foot of the operating table. "You see, while I appreciate my Great-Grandfather's tactics, I'd like to add a bit of my own...creative flair, if you will. He focused solely on the physical aspect of murder. I'm more keen on the emotional and psychological aspect."

Jo wanted to say something, but her voice was caught in her throat. All her memories of being trapped in the dark came rushing back to her. Add that to the darkness around her, and it was almost impossible for her to think straight. Her mind was completely overwhelmed by fear.

"From your lack of response, I'd say breaking you is going to be easier than I expected."

She listened closely as the killer's footsteps faded into the darkness. The second phase of her torture had begun.

Being _alone_ in the dark.

* * *

><p>Hanson had never seen Henry so anxious in his entire acquaintance with him. He fidgeted every few seconds in the passenger seat, taping his fingers on his leg. This lasted for about five minutes, until he changed to a new pattern. Sighing. Over and over and over again. It was starting to drive Hanson mad.<p>

"Henry," He said, trying to remain calm. "Would you mind doing something for me?"

Henry looked over at Hanson, nodding once. "Certainly."

"Please...stop sighing."

A puzzled look flickered across his face, before giving way to embarrassment. He nodded again, looking down at his lap. Hanson felt a pang of guilt in his heart. Maybe it would have been better to allow Henry to continue in his anxious habits. Other than mere annoyance, his sighing wasn't doing any harm.

The car ride was silent from that point on. In fact, Henry didn't make a sound. No tapping, no sighing, no...anything. Hanson had never heard him so quiet. A quick peek over at him revealed the silence on the outside was evidence of turmoil on the inside. Henry's face was stern, set like flint. It was obvious where his thoughts were, but he decided not to say anything. Allow the doctor to work through his fears; it would be better to have him clear headed when they reached the warehouses.

Within a few minutes, they were pulling into the lot. The once still Henry was now fidgeting again. They were about to get out of the car, when Hanson's cell phone rang.

"Detective Hanson," He said.

"Have you reached the warehouses yet?"

Hanson nodded, as if the Lieutenant on the other end could see. "Yes, we just got here. Do you want us to wait for backup?"

"Yes," She said firmly. "There should be several squad cars there in five minutes or so. Oh, and Hanson..."

"Yeah?"

"Don't let Henry into those buildings."


End file.
